


Bringing Sexy Back

by Berty



Series: Bringing Sexy Back [1]
Category: due South
Genre: Blow Jobs, Community: ds_aprilfools, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-10-05
Updated: 2010-10-05
Packaged: 2017-10-12 10:35:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,091
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/123981
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Berty/pseuds/Berty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's taken Ray a little while to ease into being Vecchio. Now he thinks it's time to bring a little Kowalski to the party.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bringing Sexy Back

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the ds_aprilfools challenge. Followed by the sequel, Down and Dirty.

It had taken Ray a few weeks to ease into being Vecchio. The first week had been fine; getting to know the boys and girls of the twenty-seventh, reading old cases, getting it all straight in his mind. The second week, Fraser had come back and he'd had his first taste of the weird. The third week he'd kind of bonded with the Mountie in a crypt during an eclipse, thereby tossing a little bit of his own weird into the ring. He thought that was only fair.

The fourth week he'd started to mix it up a little. A guy could only be another guy for so long without starting to make it his own. He'd never gone for the sharp Italian suits, he'd lost the wheels on the first day with Fraser, and, let's face it, he was never gonna fool anyone who'd actually _known_ Vecchio that he was the same guy. So he began to bring a little Kowalski into work with him.

He'd started small – a t-shirt under his suit jacket instead of a button down. And not all the time – the key was to make the change as unnoticeable as possible. Except Fraser had noticed, not that he'd said anything. But Ray had _noticed_ him noticing – a quick assessing glance whenever Fraser first walked into the bullpen.

Then he'd moved onto leaving the jacket off altogether – it was summer – it was hot – he was a guy in need of a little air. No big deal. Except that Fraser's eyes would linger on him a little longer when he just had a tee and his holster on. And Ray didn't mind that. Not at all. He just couldn't be sure if it was disapproval or something else.

So he'd begun to wear more of his own old stuff and less of his new Vecchio stuff. And the more he did it, the more Fraser watched, as if fascinated by the slow transformation from a guy playing his partner, to a guy becoming his partner. Which, actually, was exactly what was happening. They were starting to work together as a team, not because that was Ray's job, as a place-holder for Raimundo, but because they were _good_ together. The one-two punch – the duet Ray had bullshitted Fraser with on that first day out together. It turned out to be true.

But it was the leather jacket that had really made Ray sit up and take notice of the effect he was having on the Mountie. Before then it had been too subtle to act on – there, but too unfocussed to call Fraser on. The jacket changed all that. Fraser's steps had slowed – swear to God, actually _slowed_ that first time he'd seen it.

Ray had felt a little shiver, seeing Fraser's eyes go wide and dark, sweeping him up and down and up again. Like Ray was _something_. And it definitely wasn't something Fraser disapproved of. Of course, being Fraser, he then covered it by rubbing his forehead and making a comment about the weather, but Ray was trained to notice these things – and he'd got good at watching Fraser.

So here they were, eating dinner at a Chinese place just off Halstead, hanging out after work. Buddies. Partners for seven months now. Close. Ray's lucky leather jacket was hanging from the back of his chair. Ray was watching Fraser, and Fraser was pretending not to notice him.

But Ray was working it.

He leaned back in his chair, sipping his beer, making sure he lifted it high enough that Fraser got a good view of his throat as he swallowed, then made a big show of licking the last trace of the bitter, hop flavour from the corner of his lips.

Fraser's knuckles were white from holding his chopsticks so tightly, Ray noticed. He hoped that was a good thing.

"You done there, Frase? You didn't eat much," Ray said quietly.

Fraser put his napkin on the table and took a sip of water. "I find I'm not hungry after all," Fraser replied.

"Really? You sick or something?" Ray asked, knowing the answer already.

"No, Ray. I'm quite well, just a little distracted."

Ray nodded and waved for the bill, barely waiting for it to touch the table before he was dropping notes on top, pulling on his jacket and herding Fraser toward the door.

"Distracted, huh?" Ray pressed as soon as they hit the sidewalk, walking shoulder to shoulder. "Anything I can help you with there?"

It was quiet down the alley they were parked in. Ray's Ford gleamed dully in the streetlight as he bent to unlock the doors.

"Fraser?"

The Mountie opened his door and quickly got in, and Ray wondered if he'd just fucked up in a quite unprecedented manner. Damn it, he'd overplayed it and pissed off… or worse, scared off Fraser.

He got in, feeling a little bit sick. "Fraser," he began, hoping to find out what damage he'd done and what he could do to fix it. He'd been so focussed on playing the game, he'd forgotten that he was playing it with a guy he liked an awful lot. A guy he didn't want to lose.

"Stop it," Fraser ground out. His face was terrible, dark and anguished from what Ray could make out.

"I didn't mean to…"

"Just stop, Ray. You _did_ mean to. God!" Fraser clasped his hands in his lap and bowed his head. "What did you think would happen if you kept looking at me from under your eyelashes like that? Or smiling so slowly? Or licking your fucking lips? I'm not stupid, Ray! I do know when I'm being teased, I just don't always…"

"I'm not teasing," Ray asserted, reeling from the profanity that had slipped so naturally from Fraser's mouth and stopping him mid-flow.

"Oh, please! Don't insult me any further. It's obvious that I have given myself away in some manner, but I honestly never had you down as the sort to…"

"You stop now, Fraser," Ray spat. "Unless you want me to pop you one."

Fraser turned his face away, his features twisted with torment.

Ray breathed through his nose, calming himself enough to speak. "Listen to me. I was flirting with you Fraser, but not messing with you. I kind of noticed you noticing me. I just wanted to know if _you_ knew what you were doing."

"Do you think I'm a child?" Fraser asked in a voice tinged with despair.

"No. I think you're my partner. And my friend. And I think you're just about the hottest fucking thing I've ever laid eyes on, Fraser. But what I didn't know was whether you were curious or appalled or as hot for me as I am for you."

When Fraser's hand grabbed a handful of his hair, yanked him over the parking brake and practically onto his lap, Ray was too shocked to react for a few seconds and by that time Fraser's mouth was on his, his tongue butting impatiently against his lips, and his hot hands were on his scalp and under his jacket, searching for skin.

"The latter, Ray," Fraser growled against his lips, not letting him go. Ray twined his arms about Fraser's neck, pulling him in so close, it almost hurt, his leg trapped at an angle under the steering wheel, his hip squashed into the parking brake. But Ray didn't give a fuck for any of that. He could only focus on Fraser.

Ray opened his mouth, gasping and kissing and asking for more all at once. And Fraser gave it to him – Ray was overwhelmed. No one had ever gone for Ray with such _desperation_ before. Like Fraser would _die_ if he didn't get enough of what he needed from Ray.

It wasn't smooth and it wasn't skilled. Fraser's teeth caught at Ray's mouth, his hands pinched and grasped painfully, but Ray wasn't made of glass and a few bruises were a small price to pay to see Fraser letting it all go like this.

Ray was shaking, like it was his first time again. His jaw chattered, his fingers trembled in Fraser's hair and his he could feel every beat of his heart from his toes to his fingertips. Fraser was making these low moans, needy and possesive. It made Ray crazy and so hard it hurt.

"My place," Ray growled, pushing at Fraser and struggling back into his own seat. His hands were useless, fumbling to get the keys into the fucking ignition.

"You can't drive like this," Fraser grated, and Ray had never heard that tone before. He'd heard Fraser command, but this was… man, there was no doubt in his voice; not an inkling that his word would be anything but obeyed. Ray's dick throbbed at that. He would never have pegged himself as a submissive kind of guy, only that tone just made Ray _want_ to comply and just give it up to Fraser, whatever it was he demanded.

Fraser's head turned, scanning the deserted street. He was so together suddenly, so focussed. When he turned back to Ray, his eyes were narrow and dark. Ray's heart thumped painfully and Fraser smiled slightly as if he'd _seen_ that.

Leaning over Fraser kissed him, then quickly unbuckled Ray's belt, undid his jeans and released his aching cock. Ray should have known that Fraser would be efficient and task-oriented, even in situations like this. Ray groaned as Fraser's palm closed around the base of his dick, certain and unhesitating. But it was the shock of Fraser's sweet, wet mouth as he leaned down and took him in that dragged a high-pitched whine from Ray and shredded the last vestiges of caution from his mind.

Ray's arms flew out as if he'd been shot, his right hand clutching the back of Fraser's seat and his left rapping hard against the window. His head fell back at the overload of sensation. Once again, Fraser was not gentle, his mouth was hot and big and like nothing Ray had felt before. There was no delicacy, no finesse; this was a sprint for the finish line and no messing.

Ray held on tight. It felt utterly fucking perfect. There was a time for teasing and a time for taking it slow and this was neither. Ray just wanted to fucking come already. He was trying too hard, so desperate to get there that it was keeping him from his prize. He had to just relax and let it happen; he had to trust Fraser to do it for him.

Uncoordinatedly, Ray lifted his head and looked down where Fraser's dark hair was a dishevelled mess in his lap. Fraser had no room to move in, his face pressed up close to the steering wheel, so he was working him with his tongue and with suction rather than bobbing those pretty lips up and down his cock.

Fraser's tongue circled the crown deliberately and roughly. Ray knew he was going to be sensitive if not sore after, but couldn't bring himself to care. It was building. In his thighs, in his shoulders, in his gut he could feel it spreading, growing, swelling to fill him; a brilliance, a sharp edged, icy perfection that burst into a billion shards and became liquid heat. He spilled into Fraser's beautiful, clever mouth and shouted from a place deep inside that seemed to have held this sound too long.

Fraser didn't let up, either. His tongue pulled at him, his throat worked around Ray's flesh making him twitch and sob until Fraser decided he'd had enough.

When Fraser let him slip from his mouth, the cool of the air was brutal. Ray felt Fraser's hands on him, tucking, zipping, making him presentable. Then his weight was gone, leaving a sense of unreality that Ray fought to rationalise.

He wanted to kiss that mouth; wanted to gentle that stern line. Ray knew exactly how he could do that. He leaned toward Fraser, only to have a large, strong hand hold him back. Fraser's eyes, when Ray could focus, were so hungry it sobered him in an instant.

"Fraser, let me…" Ray pleaded.

"Take me home, Ray," Fraser murmured. "I have waited this long for you. I can wait another seven minutes."

Ray swallowed, marvelling at the man's control, then nodded. He found, in his post-orgasmic haze, that his fingers had regained some measure of skill, and he started the car, pulled out of the alley and turned toward home.

Fin.


End file.
